


The One

by sherlock221Bismymuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF Greg Lestrade, Falling In Love, Feels, Forbidden Love, Greg is the best, Idiots in Love, John is Perfect, Love, M/M, Multi, Mycroft is a Softie, No Smut, Other, POV John Watson, Polyamory, Sherlock in Love, Sherlock is a Brat, Sherlock is so loved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 08:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15092897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlock221Bismymuse/pseuds/sherlock221Bismymuse
Summary: Gifted to MezzaMorta whose story ‘Conference’ opened by eyes to the magnificent AU of these four gorgeous men once I survived the frankly terrifying amounts of hot sex in this rollercoaster ride of a plot! Thank you for expanding my horizons to see the love in every shape and form and relationship as a joyful thing!  Something just unravelled in my brain when I read that story and I sat and typed this out instead of having breakfast before going down to make my presentation at the workshop. (Praying of course that no one would hack into the projector with the police porn film like in Cardiff :P)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MezzaMorta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezzaMorta/gifts).



> You can read Conference by MezzaMorta first and then this as a sort of back story but this can be read as an independent story also.

John stood by the window overlooking the garden, a mug of hot tea in his hands, steeped to perfection, watching the new flowers blooming, steam rising from his drink, savouring the rare moments of silence in the crazy place of bedlam he was grateful to call home.

The quiet was mainly because Sherlock was still asleep. No one generated as much chaos as he did, even now, at the ripe old age of 55. Ever since he had seen the Avengers movies with Rosie, John had been secretly convinced that his former- best friend- now- lover of two decades was in fact Loki come to live amongst them.

Fortunately so had Thor or Odin or whoever it was from Valhalla, in the form of Gregory Lestrade. Greg. The grey wolf who led their pack, even though to an outsider it may seem as though Mycroft was in charge. In their heart of hearts everyone knew that it was only Greg whose roar would finally silence Sherlock, and whoever controlled him controlled their pack.

And what a pack they were!

John grinned as he always did when he thought of the four of them and the bizarre, insane, simply un-believable fact that somehow, _somehow_ in this inexplicable and mystifying universe they had found each other, managed to stay together and been magnificently in love with each other for longer than most conventional couples who say ‘I do’ were managing to survive.

It had been fifty fucking shades of fantastic. Or as Greg would have growled—‘fifty shades of fantastic fucking’’ and then Mycroft would have blushed to the tips of his posh ears, still adorably coy about using such language.

As he was standing there daydreaming, John felt a pair of warm, strong arms reach out and hug him from behind, slowly and firmly.

‘Morning Greg’ he said without needing to see who it was. He knew the touch of each of his lovers better than he would probably recognize his own hands in a line up. ‘Cuppa tea?’

‘Mmhmm’ said Greg, sleepily.

All those decades of overtime and late nights and physical exertion while working at the Scotland Yard meant that he was the one among them all who really and truly savoured his late mornings and lazy days after retirement. He simply _loved_ the luxury of being able to wake up without an alarm and to get the day started as slowly as he wanted.

‘So, today is the day?’ He asked John, his voice still gorgeously husky from having just woken up.

‘Yes it is sweetheart’ John grinned. ‘Your suit is ready. Sherlock is going to throw a fit when he sees it though’, he warned him with a wink.

Greg groaned. ‘I am not awake enough to think about that right now John! 20 years and he is as possessive as he was in the beginning. How much will be enough for him? Bloody bottomless pit of want that he is’ he muttered and cursed.

John calmly took a sip of his tea knowing that this was all just a sham.

Greg absolutely and unabashedly lived for the days when Sherlock was in a gloriously possessive mood and demanded Greg’s full and complete attention and secretly John also looked forward to those occasions when Greg would call Sherlock ‘ _Sunshine’_ and ruffle his hair and Sherlock would lean his head into his hands looking like a giant and mostly feral cat.

John knew fully well that Greg had in fact even taken premature retirement from the Yard because Sherlock had reached a point where after a spate of brutal killings and a reckless but critical chase when two Yarders had died in the line of duty, he simply could not bear to let Greg out of his sight. His frenzied worry that something terrible was going to happen to ‘his Greg’ had made them all persuade the D.I. that for the sake of their sanity, could he please, _please_ just do this?

After retirement Greg had continued to help out at the Yard of course and in fact had become the world’s second ‘Consulting Detective’---- a fact that he loved to rub in when Sherlock was behaving like a brat, which was quite often.

Sherlock wore his years lightly. Even now he had a spring in his step and a full head of hair, a lot of which had turned grey. His brain was as sharp as ever and although he no longer drove people to tears with his spot- on but sometimes cruel deductions, he was still able to sense and anticipate every change in mood, every secret and every plan that anyone from this foursome made. (That made John’s secret even more delicious today.)

Sherlock had finally written a book ‘The Science of Deduction’ which had become a best seller worldwide and was now in its 6th reprint and translated in 30 languages. Surprisingly he had also been invited to create and had actually agreed to do a video series about the same, which continued to be immensely popular even now—10 years after their launch.

John’s book “The Adventures of a Detective and a Doctor” had done twice as well as his and was on its 15th reprint, a fact which Sherlock had huffed at (though he was secretly inordinately proud of it, as John had discovered one day when he had inadvertently heard him praise his book to a journalist.) (A fact which Sherlock had denied vehemently when confronted).

And what an adventure it had been for the Detective and the Doctor!

When John thought back to the broken ex-army doctor who had returned from Afghanistan, with a bullet scar in his shoulder and limped his way across London only to find redemption in the form of a crazed flatmate who had saved his life and then destroyed it and then saved it again, he could scarce believe that this was not a piece of wild fiction.

_No_ , he corrected himself. _We both saved and destroyed each other many times over before the universe took pity on us and helped us save each other for good._

The day he met Sherlock, that enormously idiotic genius had been about to swallow a fatal capsule and John had shot the cabbie dead to save his life. Then came the day at the Pool where they had both been locked in a grim tableau of death and whimsy and survived it, only to have John utterly destroyed by the Fall some weeks later.

When Sherlock had returned, John had gone through with his marriage to Mary and left in shambles whatever had been building up between them.

It had taken three more bullets-- one in Sherlock’s chest, one in Magnussen’s head and one in Mary’s heart for them to start finding their way back to each other.

Then they had reached a twilight zone where they were so obviously in love with each other and still each other’s best friends while actually raising a child together, that they had taken a breather before trying to label what they really were to each other. This had worked for a while. It had worked very well in fact. Literally every single person they knew and especially Mrs Hudson and even Sally Donovan had been thrilled to find out that they were now together and partners in every possible way.

Until one day when John had returned from some grocery shopping to find his flatmate and lover straddling D.I.Lestrade on the sofa and snogging the living daylights out of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had never understood conventional boundaries in anything, so why would he be expected to now?

John was a little surprised but not really too much.

Sherlock had never understood conventional boundaries in anything, so why would he be expected to now? They had never really explicitly discussed what their relationship meant (though Sherlock had made it amply clear even before they were a couple that John would never really be able to date anyone else, the git! Luckily for him having once experienced the special brand of Sherlock- love there was no way John even wanted to look at anyone else. Ever.)

John knew that Sherlock had deep feelings for Greg and he had seen how often Greg could control him simply with a rub of his thumb on his wrist when no one else could get through to the raging monster he would often become at crime scenes.

So John had just gone to the kitchen, put away the groceries, come back to the living room and waited till the pair of them came up for air. He didn’t ask for any explanation but a flushed and clearly delighted Greg had gruffly told him what had triggered this.

Apparently there had been a chase at a crime scene and the suspect had run out of a cupboard in the stairwell and managed to take Greg by surprise and cut him rather badly with a knife. Sherlock had seen that Sally was looking after Greg and had given chase and beaten the man black and blue and then returned to accompany Greg to the hospital.

He had felt guilty for not deducing this would happen, then he had been frantic when he saw the blood and then angry at Greg. There had been much pacing and even some yelling.

“Can’t you be more careful Lestrade?! Such reckless endangerment. No concern for safety” and so on which was all a bit rich coming from the genius whose motto seemed to be “Save space, Live on the edge”.

From that episode to this tumble on the sofa was an inevitable conclusion apparently.

Sherlock was looking everywhere now but at John as Greg explained all this.

John smiled.

‘Hey, Sherlock’ he said, in his special soft ‘voice of love’ as his genius called it,’ come here’.

But Sherlock wandered off and stood by the window instead.

‘Greg, mate, why don’t you get yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen?’ John had said softly and had followed his best friend.

He had held that beautiful face in his hands and said ‘Sherlock, love, I know you care for Greg, a lot. But is it something more than that? You can tell me you know. I would never have thought I would be willing to share you with anyone in this world and I know you can be so bloody possessive about me it is not even funny, but hey, we have never led regular lives, so why start now? If having Greg in your life makes you happy, I think we can make him an offer he won’t refuse’.

And John had winked at Sherlock and Sherlock had blushed to the roots of his curly locks.

‘I might fancy him a bit too you know gorgeous. Would that work for you?’ John asked, his voice suddenly husky. Sherlock had just nodded and hidden his face in John’s jumper in a fierce hug and taken off to the bedroom and closed the door.

Greg came out of the kitchen a few minutes later, very worried that he had been responsible for some serious relationship trouble for his favourite pair but he had found John sitting on the sofa, eyes twinkling as they discussed tentatively what this meant for them all.

It had been brilliant and all kinds of fabulous and sometimes John looked at Greg and Sherlock and thought they reminded him of nothing more than Bagheera and Mowgli in their dynamic. He admired the way the grey haired D.I. could literally just snap his fingers and make Sherlock heel. And while the younger man would rebel and fuss and rave and rant and seriously hassle the older man (who had the patience of a saint), when it really came down it, Sherlock would always, _always_ listen to him.

‘You have to teach me how to do that!’ John had groaned once after Sherlock had thrown a tantrum, destroyed the kitchen and then sulked when John shouted at him and had refused to eat anything for two days till John had broken down and apologized to him instead.

Greg had smiled sadly and told John the long story of the days when he had rescued Sherlock from the streets and looked after him and saved his life many times over.

‘When I first saw him’, Greg shook his head, downcast even now at the memory, “he was a scruffy, scrawny young man, high as a kite and with incandescent brilliance. I found him three times in three different but equally murky places within a month. The third time we would have lost him if it had not been for Mycroft’s surveillance which helped us reach him on time. Then he was sent for rehab for a month. He came back and somehow he found me at a crime scene. He was making observations non-stop, calling people idiots……..you know how he is.”

Greg gave a brief slow and fond smile. “He deduced everything and everyone and told us who we should arrest. As he was leaving from there, I caught him. I promised him that if he would stay clean, I would make sure to invite him to every crime scene where I thought he could help. Somehow that worked as an incentive. For many long stretches of time. You know what they say about once an addict……. But even back then, while I was still married I think I had fallen in love with him. Despite the age difference, despite everything really. The heart has its own reasons eh?! Then he fell and my life went grey. Probably most of my hair too,’ he snorted. “I could not believe that the universe would allow this miracle and bring him back. That day when he came to meet me in the car park is without rival, the best day of my life. Never thought it would lead to this!” he looked around as though the sofa at 221B itself was now a crime scene and shrugged. "He knows that I will go the ends of the earth for him but he also knows that I will always keep him safe. I guess that is why he still tries to push my limits but he knows that I can and will say no to him when really needed."

John had listened grimly to this flashback and finally held Greg’s hand and stroked it and thanked him for saving Sherlock, the love of his life. And then he had leaned over and kissed Greg and suddenly it seemed possible that they were not just Sherlock and John potentially balancing Sherlock and Greg, but Sherlock and John and Greg.

And it had been even more beautiful if that was in any way possible!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sherringford, when Greg had realized the full extent of what Mycroft had done and had been willing to sacrifice to makes sure he never had to live in a world without his brother was the day he had started to fall in love with him.

But it was not till after Sherringford that life had finally put together all the reagents needed for their magic formula. Greg had looked after Mycroft in the aftermath of that disaster, while John had helped Sherlock survive and navigate his way through his relationship with Molly and Eurus and the entire fucking train wreck his life had become.

Greg had known Mycroft since the dark days of Sherlock’s drug use and he admired, respected and was in cautious awe of the man. He had seen how much he cared for Sherlock and he knew fully well what his work in the British Government meant for them all.

To see him so broken and struggling to re- build the walls of his life had been heart wrenching for Greg. He understood Holmes- speak now and could see that the struggle for control and the non-stop surveillance and in fact every bloody thing the man did had been all about saving Sherlock.

When he had finally realized the full extent of what Mycroft had done and had been willing to sacrifice to makes sure he never had to live in a world without his brother was the day he had started to fall in love with him.

He had tried to stop himself. But he had not been able to. He felt that the posh British Government would look askance upon a ‘bit of rough’ as he thought of himself but he had been pleasantly surprised when his offer of a friendship had not been rejected outright. Mycroft’s vulnerability during those painful and dark days had meant that the barriers were down and the healing heart had found solace in this wonderful man, this custodian of justice, this intrinsically good man.

Greg had confessed to John one night about how things were going.

“Do you think I am genetically predisposed to falling in love with the Holmeses?” he had asked tragically and John had snorted and said “Bloody good job you didn’t spend more time with Eurus then”.

But after that John had gone rather silent.

They both knew that John would be fine with this but they were both worried about Sherlock. He was wildly possessive at the best of times and even now there were some days when he would pull Greg away from John in mid conversation and lock him away in the bedroom and make fierce and passionate love or some days when he would deliberately snog John or kiss a love bite onto his neck right in front of Greg in a show of ownership.

Luckily the two older men loved him just so bloody deeply and trusted each other so very much that they usually laughed off such crazy displays and ruffled his hair and indulged him.

“At least he doesn’t pee on us to mark his territory” John had said once archly and he and Greg had both guffawed while Sherlock sulked and ignored them.

But this, this was new.

Sherlock and Mycroft had had an uneasy relationship at the best of times. Sherlock had chafed against the control, the surveillance, had rebelled against it all but John had been there at Sherringford and he knew that something had shifted between the two brothers. It had been subtle but it had been there.

Something new had taken root and while he thought Greg should wait to tell Sherlock, he had this odd feeling that things were going to turn out ok.

It turned out that John had been right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the day, Sherlock was The One for them both.   
> He was Greg’s ‘sunshine’ and John’s ‘love’ and ‘gorgeous’ and well, it was what it was.

After Mycroft had been given an all clear by the therapist and the various doctors and had been put on a month- long leave to recover, Sherlock had gone to stay with him for two weeks.

They had navigated their way delicately through the landmine of memories and realities and the tug of war of emotions and promises, failures and regrets. It was not a new beginning as much as a re-discovering of deeper connection.

John and Greg had stayed back at 221B wanting to give them the space to heal and find each other.

It had been a blessing which had also allowed them to discover each other without the whirlwind that was Sherlock constantly sweeping them away. But although they had their moments of bliss and joy and love during those peaceful weeks, each one had secretly pined for Sherlock a little because in their heart of hearts he was the one they loved best and always would. They loved each other with the fullest and every bit of their hearts but at the end of the day, Sherlock was The One for them both.

He was Greg’s ‘sunshine’ and John’s ‘love’ and ‘gorgeous’ and well, it was what it was.

When Mycroft and Sherlock had emerged from the healing, it seemed that even more boundaries and conventions were to be broken by the Holmes siblings but after the spectacular upheaval they had undergone at Sherringford, honestly, nothing seemed surprising.

Sherlock had remembered his childhood and the floodgates of his love for his brother, suppressed and hidden for so long, had been flung wide open and the deluge had swamped them not just emotionally but physically and the Ice Man had melted from his very core.

He knew then why he had never been able to find any ‘goldfish’ of his own. It was because his heart had been lost to his own brother, the magnificent, brilliant, unique young man whom he had saved time and time again because he had really only been saving himself. His brother was his heart and his very reason for existence and if their bodies needed to express that love too then surely life was too short and the world too chaotic to try and follow any of the rules and taboos.

Thus it was that Mycroft had found his way into their jumbled up ‘family’ much to their initial surprise and Mrs Hudson’s secret delight.

In fact they sometimes wondered in bewildered awe if anything would ever faze Mrs. Hudson!

Surely there were higher forces looking out for them after all. Seriously! For a family of four men, two of whom were brothers, all in love with each other, to find a landlady in central London who not only had space in her home but also in her heart for this messy, often loud, completely insane, many times dangerous, always hungry and frankly adorable family, there had to have been some cosmic force in action.

Not just her but every woman who had come into their lives had been her own glorious goddess. And the coven of Molly, Anthea, Mummy Holmes and now Rosie was one which guarded this family like the damn National Treasure it was. The Woman continued to send Sherlock her once a year text message on his birthday but John knew that she had also passed on vital information to him during those years after the Fall which had saved his life a couple of times. Mary may have loved this too thought John wistfully sometimes.

When the four of them had eventually settled down into some kind of pattern, and got on with their lives, all those decades ago, John had come to realize certain things for sure.

He knew with a certainty that he absolutely loved it when Greg called Sherlock his ‘sunshine’ and the young man almost purred into his hands. Equally, he knew that Greg loved it when Sherlock played the violin for John alone and John had that predatory gleam in his eyes which would lead Mrs Hudson to huff the next morning and tell her boys to ‘keep it down’.

As Greg and Mycroft and then John and Mycroft had slowly found their way to each other too, Sherlock had managed to not just open his heart to it but also grown to love it.

However, they had all recognized how difficult it was for him to share any of them and they took special care to make sure he never felt neglected or ignored, because that led to tantrums and displays of rage of the scale that could probably re-start the Big Bang in their part of the Universe !

It was usually John who recognized when things were likely to enter dangerous zones because he was so attuned to the genius, after having shared space with him for years. But it was usually Greg who made sure enough attention was paid and cases were found for that buzzing brain to be kept happy. It was also Greg who made sure he was thoroughly kissed and cuddled and made love to till he felt precious and content, while John beamed indulgently and cooked up special treats to persuade his love to eat.

When they had managed to narrowly avert disaster on such occasions John and Greg would look at each other with a secret smile. Sometimes they would exchange that glance over his head as he lay in John’s lap watching crap telly. Sometimes they would smile when Sherlock was sleeping all over Greg and preventing him from leaving the bed to get ready for work. Sometimes they would pretend to not notice that after rejecting all the food that was offered, he was stealing from both their plates and they would keep taking more helpings into their own plates till he was finally done. Sometimes they would grin at each other when he pulled one of them into the shower with him.

But they both knew that nothing, absolutely _nothing_ in this world was more precious than the sight of Sherlock looking at Mycroft, hands around his waist, lips close to touching and saying ‘My’, so softly as to be almost unheard and Mycroft looking back at him with that infinite ocean of tenderness in his eyes and saying ‘Lockie’.

The first time John saw this he thought his knees would give way. Greg had been standing next to him with a cup of tea and in fact had had to sit down, sloshing some of the hot liquid on his pants but he wouldn’t have noticed if his clothes had been on fire at the time.

This was beyond any kinds of love. This was goddam _worship_. This was how a God in heaven would look at his favourite Angel in adoration and the Angel would be all kinds of magnificent with curly hair and full lips, shining with some inner light, worshipping his God.

This was something so divine that John could watch forever and never be done.

John sighed.

Those moments had been rare during the busy days when Mycroft had still been the British Government and Sherlock still the World’s Only Consulting Detective.

Now that they had all retired to Sussex they saw it more often but he remembered the day he realized that this love would extract a heavy price.

Mycroft had fallen gravely ill five years ago and Sherlock had asked John for something which he could not give.

He had said what John had always known but probably not understood what it implied.

‘I cannot live without My’, Sherlock had said simply.

John had reassured him and said that he was going to get well even though it was serious but of course he was getting the best care and so on.

Sherlock had heard him out-- more patiently than he would ever have even five years ago, John reflected.

But then he had said “No John I am not talking about today. I have always loved you and I know you love me but you survived when I fell, I survived when you married. I know Greg will be devastated if anything happened to me. Yes, I know he loves me more than he loves anyone else. I don’t want to even think about how I will survive Greg and maybe I won’t, but I know for sure that if anything happens to Mycroft, I cannot carry on. Please will you help me then?”

‘Oh Sherlock, love’ John had whispered. ‘Think of what are you asking of me?? If you are gone again I don’t think I will survive and neither will Greg’.

‘No John you will. You will both have each other. Please do this for me."

 

That evening John, still shaken to his very core had turned this conversation over and over in his mind. Even though they had all retired from their once dangerous lives, the truth was that they were not getting any younger.

Would he really survive after Sherlock ? Would Greg ? He knew with a certainty that Mycroft would not. What combination of them would survive the loss of Sherlock if that were to happen? He was The One for all three of them......and so eventually John decided that he needed to be prepared for all contingencies and had reached out to Molly to have the most difficult conversation of his life with her.

He now had three packets in his special safe, with two white tablets in each, praying that they would never have to be used but knowing that the reality may well be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tablets are my tribute to Alone on the Water by Mad Lori. Do read it if you have not !


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Rosie's wedding day and Sherlock is miserable.

But today was a time for happier thoughts.

It was Rosie’s wedding day.

22 years ago Molly had eventually met and married this wonderful man Harry Jackson who was a doctor from Jamaica and working with Doctors without Borders. Within a year of being married they had a son Aden and three years later a daughter Chanise.

Rosie had been 4 and Aden only 1 when she had taken charge of him. He had been besotted from the first moment and had followed her around on his dimpled legs and then some years later was to be found running behind her at picnics, playing with her, listening to her read out to him and experiment together under the proud supervision of her Pa Sherlock. After college he had gone to spend his gap year in Jamaica and there had been hour- long marathon Facetime calls between the two of them, some tears and sad faces and rejected meals at 221B, where Rosie still lived while completing her post graduate studies in Forensic Medicine.

Neither John nor any of her other three fathers had been able to offer a cure for the love-sickness.

So, after Aden returned at the end of a year, it was absolutely no surprise to anyone when they came in one day holding hands and announced that they were engaged

For the sake of medical consent and other matters Sherlock and John had been registered as civil partners, as had Greg and Mycroft. The plan had been for John and Sherlock to give her away though all four men had been equally in loco parentis.

Sherlock, as expected, had taken this news of the wedding rather badly and was miserable and moping about his baby being all grown up and going away and generally behaving as though she had signed up for a one way mission to Mars rather than just planning to move out of their home to another one, fairly close by.

It was in order to distract him from creating more drama than needed at the final wedding day that John and Greg had planned a prank with the suits.

Sherlock had been too distraught to focus on the clothes and had been planning to wear one of the suits from his huge collection of top of the line designer ones, while John had indulged himself with getting a new one stitched for the occasion. And an identical one for Greg.

They both came down dressed in their suits and watched Sherlock’s face as it flitted from surprise, to disbelief to outrage. John and Greg were going to be at the wedding looking like a couple dressed in matching suits?! It was simply beyond his capacity for tolerance. He flounced off to find Mycroft and complained to him and raved and ranted. Mycroft told him to be reasonable and that this was not Ru Paul’s drag race that anyone was going to judge them on their outfits. It was supposed to be Rosie’s day so could be please stop being a Drama Queen and grow up?

Of course this kind of a logical discussion only served to drive Sherlock into a complete frenzy of feeling the injustice of it all even more bitterly. He did what only he could. He ripped the sleeve off his suit, set fire to a part of his waistcoat and then turned up in the living room looking like he had just survived a bomb explosion.

Three pairs of eyes turned to him as he explained how his suit was clearly no longer wearable and he would just go out and buy a new one off the rack and by the way where had John picked up his from? Not exactly to his much more superior taste but you know, last minute and all that…….

All three of them looked at him very calmly, then John turned to Greg and held out his hand.

‘You owe me 50 quid.’

Turns out that even geniuses can be predictable in their behaviour and while Greg had been worried that Sherlock would destroy his suit so he was no longer matching John’s, John had guessed quite rightly that Sherlock would not dare do that to Greg, but would find some way to make his own suit un-wearable and then demand a new one of the same kind.

Mycroft’s tailor had already been roped in for this and  the twin suit for John and Greg had been a decoy and in fact all four of them had matching suits made-- with a deep auburn shirt for Mycroft, a royal blue for John, a rich cream for Greg and of course a deep purple for Sherlock.

When they had all turned up in Church later , Rosie had looked at them with delight and said ‘Oh the entire rainbow of my fathers is here!’

And then ceremony had been completed without a hitch and many tears and goodbyes later (Sherlock had cried more than Rosie and had to be comforted by Molly, who had rolled her eyes at having to do this) the four of them made their way back to their cottage.

John poured out some of the best whiskey that Mycroft had procured and as they raised their glasses in a toast to the best of times, John thought back to the days when they had all been so alone and how their love for Sherlock had eventually bound them all to each other.

‘To Rosie and Aden’, said Greg, looking at John.

‘To Love’, said Mycroft, looking at Sherlock.

‘To Family’, said Sherlock, looking at them all.

‘To us’ said John and they all raised another toast.

That night as all of them slept on the same bed by an unspoken agreement, they knew that whether there was a heaven after life or not, they had built their own here on earth and there was no greater blessing they could have ever hoped for.

Tomorrow would be another day in paradise.


End file.
